


Let me overcome

by pollys_pocket



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish Elves, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slavery, Tranquil Inquisitor, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollys_pocket/pseuds/pollys_pocket
Summary: Ellana Lavellan had a rough life. Before she just happened to become the Inquisitor she was a slave. This story is about the moments in between epic quests and travels - the time she spends in Skyhold falling in love with her commander, making friends and overcoming her dark past.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He was the first to spot her wavering in the paper white winds. They had been marching for what seemed like forever but their path had been secluded and calm for the most part. They had sought comfort in each other. She, on the other hand, had been alone in the storm, had stood alone against the beast and its master. The fact that she had survived the encounter with Corypheus was a miracle in itself. But fighting her way through the inhospitable icy storms of the Frostback Mountains _after_ she did and was most likely injured was a near impossible feat. Just as his eyes caught her silhouette behind a veil of snow he saw her collapse.

“There, it’s her!”, he exclaimed.

“Thank the Maker”, Cassandra shouted and then everything went black.

She awoke to the sound of her companions dispute. She was still freezing and could hardly make out what was being said. Leliana, Cassandra, Josephine and Cullen were angrily staring at each other in the distance, clearly arguing about their current situation. They had lost many in Haven and it had taken a toll on all of them. Ellana tried to make out single words or sentences, but to her everything sounded like white noise. Rustling trees, gurgling creeks, distant crows. She pressed her palm against her forehead as she tried to sit up. As Cullen saw her rise from her makeshift bed he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. It did not matter. The others had long ago stopped listening to each other. He doubted they’d even notice if he just left. The Herald was talking to Mother Giselle. Cullen was confident the Herald would be in good hands with her but had to fight the urge to storm off into her direction nonetheless. He felt guilty for what had happened to her, and none of them knew what exactly had happened. She fell unconscious as soon as they found her and had not awoken until now. Soon the entire Inquisition would be pestering her, asking question after question, and while Cullen had to admit that answers were important, he wanted nothing more than to fall to her feet and apologize until his voice would yield, raw and crackled. He had allowed her to sacrifice herself. No, he hadn’t just allowed it. He had welcomed it, not even questioned it for more than a fragment of a second. He had told himself it was the only way to save the good people of Haven, but what could have been the price. He had not even been aware of his lingering feelings for her, until they had set up camp. They had always been so busy in Haven. She was gone most of the time, closing rifts, slaying demons. The daring escape from the Chantry, the avalanche breathing down their necks. The cold, the pain, the peoples cries and screams. But as their new, temporary camp had fallen silent for the first time he had noticed a stinging sensation in his chest. At first he had concluded that the most recent trauma, the loss and the sadness around him, had been the cause, but he had quickly came to realize that it was his own loss instead. His loss of her. He had rallied every man and woman who could still shakily stand on both legs and searched all over for her. When he had found her his heart sank to the ground, together with her fragile body.

Embarrassed he faced away, staring into the mountain peaks. When he could finally bare to look at her again she was gone. He found her deep in conversation with the other elf, Solas. Cullen quickly ducked behind one of the bigger tents, unable to avert his eyes. A different kind of stinging arose, now in his stomach. All those feelings were new to him. He gasped. His entire life had been devoted to the Templar Order. He knew nothing about romantic feelings, about love or lust or jealousy. Notwithstanding he understood, that the boiling in his gut was the latter. He suspected that Solas and Ellana had a lot in common. Definitely more than he himself and the Herald did. They were both elves, both mages. And the way Solas looked at her, with so much warmth and affection - it was too much to bear. Cullen turned his head, buried his fingers in his snowy wet hair. Then he heard footsteps. A quick glance revealed that Solas had left. Ellana was standing by the magical fire Solas had sparked, her shoulders straight and her eyes tired. He couldn’t help himself. He had to talk to her. His footsteps were hesitant but she heard the crumpling of the snow underneath his heavy boots.

“Commander”, she said quietly without turning around. He stopped and cleared his throat.

“Ell- Herald. You, I mean, you know it’s”, he took a deep breath. “You know it’s me”, he finished without another stutter. His mumblings painted a weary smile on her frozen face.

“You have a distinct walk.” She chuckled.

“Ell- Herald, Maker’s breath. Herald, I came to…”

“I don’t mind you calling me Ellana, Commander”, she said as her smile grew wider.

“I insist you call me Cullen, then”, he added and felt so happy, he almost forgot why he followed her in the first place. Remembering felt like being punched in the stomach.

“Her- Ellana. I came to apologize. I know, no words can heal the wounds or remunerate you for what you’ve done. I made you, I mean, I could never make you, a woman as strong-willed and assertive, but I didn’t object-, no, it’s not the right word.” Ellanas eyes showed no reaction, no sign of what his ineloquent drivel made her feel or think. She was a perfect statue. Cullen moaned angrily. He wasn’t happy with how this apology was going. Not one bit.

“I’m sorry.” The words came easier as he called to mind what he was attempting to convey. “You made a decision. I should have disagreed vehemently, but I hardly protested at all. I accepted your sacrifice and it was a terrible error on my part. I hope you can forgive me.” Cullen looked Ellana straight in the eyes as he finally finished.

“Are you done now?”, she asked with an undefined edge in her tone.

“Y-yes?”, he answered. _Pull it together, Cullen,_ he thought to himself, _you’re a Commander, but every ounce of self-confidence has miraculously left your body_.

“Don’t be sorry”, Ellana said at last. “You respected my judgement. You had no choice if you wanted to save the people of Haven. I hold no grudge against you.”

“I-“, Cullen said, “thank you.” He turned on his heel as his cheeks turned red in the fading moonlight and strode away into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first fanfic but I'm really enjoying it. There will be much more fluff and a fair amount of smut later, but relationships (yes, plural!) have to progress first. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skyhold has quickly become a home for Ellana. When Varric suggests a game of Wicked Grace she's not aware that the sneaky dwarf wants to help her advancing her relationship with Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ellanas past is an issue in this chapter and, while it's not discussed in great detail, rape is mentioned. Racism and bullying are discussed as well.

Chapter 2

Skyhold was home. As an elf, Ellana was not used to having anything of the sort. Her clan had been stripped of their homes so long ago, most of them didn’t remember ever having one. They went from place to place, meadow to meadow, plain to plain. On rare occasions they’d find a village to take them in for a short while, but they never stayed. Ellana could recall a handful of towns she had stayed in as a child and as a young adult. The mud they had thrown at her back and her face, the times she has been shoved, pushed and kicked, spat on and called racist slurs would stick with her until the end of her days.

She felt the days last sun rays caressing her eyelids, her high cheekbones, her pillowy lips. The grey stones of the battlements were cold under her long fingers, but she continued to hold on to not lose herself in the memories. Comparatively, her earliest years had been the happiest. Everything had taken a turn for the worse when her father died in an accident and her mother, her brother and herself were captured by raiders in the Hinterlands. The raiders threw them in a dungeon, tortured and killed her dear brother and sold her mother and Ellana at an underground slave market. Sweet Mahanon had only been five years old. His cries of terror and despair echoed in Ellanas skull every night still. The man who had bought Ellana and her mother was cruel. He had raped Finril while her daughter watching and when taking her body hadn’t been enough anymore, he tortured her too, before or even during the act. He had also made Ellana watch the time her mother finally died from his lashes. Finril had stared her straight into Ellana's eyes. She discerned no fear, no pain, no regret. Fibril's eyes were filled with nothing but hatred. And Ellana had decided then and there that she’d avenge her mother one day. The Tevinter man was an important figure and socialized in only the highest circles of society. Naturally, he was invited to the Conclave. Ellana was just one of the slaves who accompanied him on the journey which would prove to be his last. Her master had intended to have Ellana take her mothers place that night. The Breach not only spared her life, it saved Ellana from having her innocence taken by a vile, power-drunk bastard. In those sparse lonely moments, she dwelled on the guilt she felt, not only for surviving the Breach, but also for having prayed someone or something would kill her master that day.

“Ellana?” The sound rang loudly in her ear. Her long white hair drew a circle in the air as the elf turned to look who called her name.

“Varric”, she proclaimed with relief. Not anyone who wanted something from her, would ask her orders or opinion. Just her friend Varric, the one person who would most definitely crack a joke in the first ten seconds of their interaction.

“You seem distraught”, Varric remarked. Ellana cursed her all too transparent face.

“It’s nothing, really.” She tried her best to fake a smile. She inhaled for what seemed like an eternity and gained her composure back.

“What did you want to discuss?”, Ellana asked.

“Nothing”, Varric shrugged, “I just wanted to see whether I could steal you away for a game of Wicked Grace.” Ellana beamed with joy. Whenever her dark thoughts seemed to consume her entirely Varric happened to appear out of thin air to lighten the mood considerably.

“Bring it on”, Ellana replied, “momma needs a new pair or brass knuckles.”

“Always the lady”, Varric grinned.

To Ellana’s surprise everyone was already sitting in the tavern, waiting for them. Josephine, who would never miss a chance to gamble, Leliana, who was a wild beast underneath all the clocked seriousness, Cassandra, who loved a good reason to curse and let lose, Blackwall, who seemed to be up for just about any kind of shenanigans anyway, Cole, who was currently struggling with grasping the concept of a chair and Cullen, whose face was a pleasant mystery, as always. The only one missing from their illustrious gathering was Solas and Ellana was not at all surprised, that casual gambling and drinking was not in his realm of interests.

“I feel daring today”, Josephine announced, with a giggle in her cunning voice, “I’ll bet two coppers.” Ellana and Varric crossed the small room to take their places around the table. The beer wench placed two foaming pints in front of the elf and the dwarf as soon as their butts hit the wooden chairs. Cole stared at them in awe.

“You just sit”, he hushed, “just like that.” He then proceeded to shake his head, climbed onto his own chair with both feet and crouched there, like a bird with a really big hat.

“So you started without us. Traitors!” Varric raised a fist and waived is at no one in particular. Ellana laughed. She had been staring at Cullen ever since they walked in and just became fully aware that all her companions, including the Commander himself, were possibly aware of the fact. She blushed and stuffed her hand into her coin pouch.

“I double”, she said and made sure to definitely not look at Cullen again. Instead she focused entirely on Cole who seemed so lost in the world of people that Ellana felt the constant urge to cup her hands around his face and tell him everything would be alright.

Ellana enjoyed a lucky streak that night. No matter how much she bet and what she bet it on, the coins just flew right into her open arms. She was building little towers of coppers and silvers, when her first opponents ran out of money to bet. Josephine was doing reasonably well for herself and Cole had a small pile of bounty in front of him, assumingly because despite not understanding anything about the rules or even the purpose of a game like Wicked Grace, he was reading everyone’s minds as best he could. Varric, Cullen and Blackwall, Leliana and Cassandra were impoverished.

“Easy enough”, Josephine muttered, suppressing a wide grin. “I guess instead of your coin you could give us your cloth.”

“Are you suggesting a striptease version of Wicked Grace?”, Varric asked and covered his open mouth with his hands in such exaggerated fashion that the whole table burst into laughter.

“Well, we’re the only ones left in here, expect for good old Adelinde and she seems busy scrubbing the bar”, Josephine elaborated.

“I am obviously in”, said Varric. “My clothes won’t fit you anyway.” Blackwall patted him on the back and in his booming voice he said: “If I win it’s your loss!” Cassandra swallowed and sheepishly looked around the table, then she got up and placed her fingertips on the table as she spoke.

“I will retire”, she said and the rest of her words were almost entirely drowned by the howling laughter from Blackwall, Varric, Josephine and Leliana. “And I will take poor young Cole with me, you animals.” She grabbed Coles hand, dragged him off his chair so that he almost fell flat on his face, and stormed out.

“What about you Leliana?”, asked Josephine. “What a redundant question, wouldn’t you agree?”, she replied with a smirk. “I am staying.” She folded her arms before her chest and laid back against the back of her chair.

“Inquisitor?”, Varric asked and shoved his elbow into her side. “You’re staying, right?” Ellana paused for only a second.

“Well, I have to”, she replied at long last, “you all need a chance to win your money back.”

“Is nobody going to ask me?”, Cullen asked as Josephine started dealing the cards.

“No”, Varric replied. “You’re playing.”

Ellana was glad to continue her winning streak. Cole's pile had been evenly split between the remaining players with no coins and Josephine had registered significant losses but she was still properly dressed. On top of the table, amidst empty and half-empty glasses, stood one of Leliana’s shoes. Underneath it were Varric’s belt and Blackwalls coat and Commander Cullen’s complete ensemble, minus his undergarnments.

“I don’t understand wh-hy I keep lo-osing”, he lulled in despair, “my ca-ards just seem to al-always be cu-ursed.”

“I am dealing you great hands”, Josephine retorted, “you’re just a dreadful card player.”

“Well, I guess it’s late in any case”, Ellana said, partly to be able to finally peel her eyes off Cullens muscular body. His undershirt left little to the imagination and Ellana caught herself fantasizing about running her fingers across the depths and uprisings of his chiseled chest and abdomen. She could make out every muscle without the Commander flexing one bit. The cotton hugged his silhouette so tightly, Ellana felt almost faint at the sight. She had never experienced anything that remotely resembled lust or desire. She hardly understood the concept of love and relationships in general. The physical part had always been an enigma, considering her own history. Never would Ellana have expected that she was capable of longing. But there she was, utterly incapable of not staring at her own Commander in his underpants. Ending the game was her sole escape out of this indecorous situation. Varric yawned.

“She’s right”, he concurred, “we could all use some rest.” He nodded to Leliana, Blackwall and Josephine.

“But I can still win!”, Josephine protested.

Varric furrowed his brow. “It’s really time”, he insisted. Josephine looked at a blushing Ellana and a drunk Cullen, then back at Varric and a drawn out _Ahhh_ escaped her lips. “Til tomorrow then!”, she added, pulled Blackwall up from his seat and the four of them all but stormed out of the tavern with impish smiles on their faces.

“What was that all about?”, asked Ellana and looked after the bunch.

“I-I think they got, got us both - both drunk”, stammered Cullen and blinked slowly, “and then they left us to ourselves.” Whilst you’re indecent, Ellana added in her own head and blushed so that her face felt like it was on fire.

“I should get going”, she said to the table surface. She couldn’t bear to look up, now that the two of them were alone. Adelinde was snoring behind the counter and every other soul had left hours ago.

“Wait”, Cullen said a little too boisterously. Adelinde’s snoring became louder and quicker for just two breaths. Ellana had already stood up and was now facing the door.

“Yes?”, she said without turning to look at him.

“I am very sorry for my un-Commanderly behavior”, he exclaimed, disrupted by a violent hiccup. “I will make-, make sure it never happens again.”

“What a shame”, whispered Ellana, before she fled the tavern as fast as her long elven legs carried her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Ellana have a long talk but Cullen suspects that she has secrets.

Chapter 3

 

Ellana had been having troubles sleeping ever since she had been marked by the Breach. The light of the anchor kept her up at night, as well as the piercing pain which it sent through her arm in irregular intervals. She had gotten used to the deprivation. It wasn't like she had been resting on satin sheets in the years leading up to the Inquisition. Or ever, really.

Val Royeaux had been a preponderant disappointment. Not that Ellana was particularly keen on striking and alliance with the Templars. Every fiber of her being pulled her towards the Mages. Despite her being a Tranquil now, she had once possessed considerable magical abilities. Her Tevinter master had been a mage himself and fancied exotic Dalish slaves who carried the gift. To prevent a magic-fueled slave uprising amongst their ranks he forced each of them to be stripped off their powers. Uniting the Inquisition with the Mages would be one invaluable step towards putting her heart at ease. But talking to the Templars to keep up appearances was crucial. She couldn't play favorites. At least not as obviously as she would have preferred to.

The only positives that had come off her little trip to Val Royeaux were Sera and Vivienne, though Ellana wasn't yet entirely convinced those were in fact positive unfoldings.

Her feet led her down the stairs, through the main hall of Skyhold, past the tavern and the nursing tents and towards the stables. She was dressed only in her silky nightdress and dressing gown. The moon reflected the pearly white fabric of the dress and made the green of the gown sparkle like a grove laced with morning dew. The belt was tied loosely around her waist and her lily-white breasts brushed lightly against the cloth. Her feet were bare and she savored the little patches of grass tickling her soles.

The stables were deserted as they frequently happened to be this time of night. Even Blackwall, who spent every waking moment close to his beloved horses, laid to rest inside the castle these days. It had been a real attainment to convince him that stone walls weren’t the worst thing and that an actual bed had it’s benefits. Ellana welcomed the serenity.

“Good evening, my friend.” She walked up to her Fereldan Forder Elnar. She has given him the name and despite it sounding quite different from his old name he responded well to it. He huffed and whickered softly. As Ellana approached, he buried his long nose under her small arm.

“ _Shh_ ”, Ellana said lovingly, “we will travel again soon. Just a little more patience, Elnar.” The horse nodded in excitement and Ellana snickered.

“In all my years I’ve never seen a horse take to its owner like this.”

His voice sent shivers up her spine. In spite of her peerless auditory senses she had not heard him coming. _Cullen must be standing right behind me_ , she concluded as she felt his warm breath on her neck. The small hairs on her arms and legs and even on her back arose. She dared not to turn her face towards his.

“Cullen”, she gasped. “You cannot sleep either?” She heard his crooked smile as he answered.

“It’s been so long, I cannot seem to recall what a full night’s sleep feels like.”

“I don’t imagine I experienced it ever”, she said timidly.

“May I ask a licentious question, Inquisitor?”, Cullen asked after a few minutes of standing there silently.

“Go ahead.” They still weren’t facing each other. The circumstance aided his bluntness and her willingness to tell him whatever he wanted to know.

“You are headstrong. Determined. A natural authority. But whenever we speak alone you seem uneasy. Shaky, even. Am I bothering you?” Profound sadness was carried in his tone.

“I- what?” Ellana shook her head. She rolled a straw between her thumb and index finger and absent-mindedly bent it, wove it between her knuckles.

“It’s happening again”, he sighed. “I apologize. I don’t know what I did. I sincerely hope I wasn’t indecent when we-, that night in the tavern. I must admit, that I do not seem to remember the end of the night. It’s, I-“ Ellana turned to face him. He had walked a few paces away from her, his face buried in his big, rough hands.

“You always apologize”, Ellana whispered, “for things you needn’t apologize for.” She glanced at him through her thick lashes.

“I’m sorry”, he replied and as they both realized what he had just said they burst into laughter. Then silence fell over them again like heavy rain.

“You make me nervous”, Ellana admitted, resting her palm on the horses soft nostrils.

“Not intentionally”, Cullen replied, running his hands through his thick blonde hair.

“I know”, Ellana said gloomily.

“Maybe it would help if we got to know each other better”, Cullen suggested hastily.

“I’d like that.” Ellana smiled at him through a curtain of her spiderweb-white hair.

 

They sat on a pile of fresh hay in the empty stable next to Elnars for what felt like not more than an hour as they became aware of the sun rising from its slumber.

“Maker’s Breath, the sun is rising”, said Cullen as he noticed warm light embracing the tawny straws around them. Ellana’s tired face was illuminated by golden rays. She was so beautiful, thought Cullen, so kind, courageous, wise beyond her years.

“I know much more about you now, about your sister Mia, about how you joined the Order as a child, about your training, Kirkwall, your past”, said the elf, “but I could still talk to you for hours.” She hadn’t considered what she was saying before the words slipped her mouth and now there were out there, dangling in the air between them like a sword of Damocles.

“I still know near nothing about you”, Cullen complained, “my thirst has yet to be quenched.”

“I’m not all that fascinating”, Ellana responded faintly. “You know that I am Dalish. You know that I am a Tranquil.”

“But what about your upbringing? Your family? Where did you grow up? When did you decide to remove your powers?”

“Those are stories for another day. Or maybe no day ever.” Ellana’s eyes filled with a pain, deeper and darker than the waters of the Storm Coast.

“I-“ Ellana placed just one of her fingers lightly on Cullens half open lips.

“Don’t apologize”, she whispered. And without another word she got up and ran towards the castle, green and white silk flowing behind her.

There was no point in going to sleep now, Cullen concluded. He merely went to his chamber do strap on his armor. Ellana’s last words echoed in his head all day, the recruits even commented on his absentmindedness, something they would not dare unless his bemusement was all too evident. He wondered if he should approach her, ask her want she had meant but was fairly certain that she would not answer him. Leliana might know a secret or two, which was owed to her line of work. Josephine might have stumbled across some fascinating gossip but he wasn’t interested in tittle-tattle. Cassandra was Ellana's friend, as was Varric. The both of them were closer to the Inquisitor than any of her other companions. But which one of them would give him information more freely? He felt terrible even considering going behind Ellana’s back to interrogate her closest allies but he could not help himself. After all he was not about to torture them for information, but kindly ask a few unsusceptible questions.

He ran into Varric first. Luckily so, Cullen deduced. Cassandra was a tough, experienced warrior, and not prone to releasing what is meant to be private information, without orders. Varric, in contrast, was a storyteller. Well, Cullen had come to hear one. The dwarf was standing by the fireplace in the main hall, looking smug. That seemed to be what he was doing most of the time. How he managed to run his business and write bestselling novels despite his apparent lack of dynamism was a mystery to the Commander.

“Varric”, he said in his friendliest voice, “would you care for a pint?”

“Rutherford”, the dwarf responded and raised a bushy eyebrow, “you have never asked me that before. I dare say you’ve never asked anyone in Skyhold that question.”

“So?”, Cullen crossed his arms before his chest plate. Cullen was tall, he towered over most other men already. Next to Varric he seemed no inch short of a giant. His furrowed forehead conveyed the message that he would not take no for an answer.

They walked to the tavern without speaking a word, which was absolutely normal for Cullen but beyond odd for Varric. The Commander picked a table at the far end of the ground floor. He was hoping the bard might drown out their voices. Adelinde brought two pints and then men drank eagerly. After a few big gulps Varric decided Cullen would take too long to muster up the courage.

“So Cullen, what do you want to know about Ellana?”, he asked and took another hearty sip. Cullen chocked on his beer and it took him a moment to finish coughing and gather his breath.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed”, Varric appeased, “most of us haven’t got a clue.”

“Who knows?”, Cullen asked, his voice scratchy.

“Cassandra, obviously. She knows the both of you better than any of us do. Josephine has fine antennas, she figured it out almost as quickly as we did. Leliana can read us all like open books. Quite uncomforting, if you ask me. I am a writer, I pick up on vibes like it’s my second nature. Blackwall, Vivienne, Cole, Solas, Sera, the entire rest of Skyhold – they are unsuspecting.” Cullen swallowed and bit his lower lip. His scar danced across his face as he did.

“I want to know as much as you deem fit to tell me”, Cullen confessed, “about her past. What happened before the Inquisition, before the Conclave.”

Varric pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s sensitive stuff”, he said reluctantly.

“I want to understand her”, Cullen pleaded, “I would never hurt her. I just need to know. I need to know how to approach her without her feeling scared.” Varric eyeballed him while he downed the remainder of his beer in one gulp.

“Ellana is Dalish”, Varric said, “she is a Tranquil and she was at the Conclave. Guess why.” Cullen let out an irritated moan.

“Varric, I do not wish to play games, I simply care to inquire –“

“You want to know stuff. I know the stuff. My way or no way.” With a swift motion the dwarf ordered another round. Cullen sighed.

“Alright. She was there to-, to-, to speak on behalf of the Dalish? The Tranquil? She had an agenda to- ban tranquilization? To further it?” Cullen hammered his fist against the table and spilled a third of their newly arrived beers.

“You’re paying that round”, said Varric unfazed. “And no.”

“Varric, I will never-“

“Think darker”, the dwarf hinted, “much, much darker.” Cullen’s eyes widened.

“But she couldn’t have been…”

“A slave? Yes. Yes, she was.” Varric was surprised to see the honest shock on his Commanders face. “Listen, I don’t know an awful lot myself. So far I gathered that she was a slave, that her master killed her mother and brother and died at the Conclave. I know he was from Tevinter. I guessed as much and she confirmed it. She seems fine with Mages, almost drawn to them. But I’d bet Bianca that he did stuff to her she’d like to forget. So be careful. Don’t push anything. You might be our honorable Commander but if you hurt her I swear I’ll hunt you down like prey.” Varric was not one to put it plainly and he certainly wasn't the type who went around, threatening people. He seemed cheery even in the messiest situations. But his face had fallen dark and his eyes were filled with determination.

Cullen had turned white as a ghost. He threw a few coins on the table without even looking at them.

“I have to go”, he said aphonicly, “but know that I would never hurt her, as long as I live.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian shows up in the next chapter, quite problematic, considering that he's from Tevinter. Will Ellana be okay with the situation? And how will Cullen deal with what he learned from Varric? How will their relationship progress? Wait and see! :)


End file.
